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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973378">Overwatch: Flawed Foundations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheegothBait/pseuds/SheegothBait'>SheegothBait</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>blind!jack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:49:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheegothBait/pseuds/SheegothBait</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Talon gets their hands on an unexpected prize: Jack Morrison, now known as Soldier 76.  Infighting on what to do with the former Overwatch strike commander ensues, and the ugly side of business takes its toll on the entire organization. Some of the members get hit harder than others. Some will become disillusioned.</p>
<p>And some will hold grudges.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Prisoner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“I want him when you’re done.”</p><p>Reaper stared through the one-way glass at the broken, aging man slumped in the other room. </p><p>“Perhaps you’d like a turn when he wakes up?” Akande asked. </p><p>Reaper flexed his talons. “Love to. But you still want him alive, right?”</p><p>“Correct.” </p><p>“Better not go in there then.” He drummed his talons on the console. “Fucking bastard shot me.”</p><p>“You are not healing?” </p><p>“Can’t.” He put a hand to his side. His talons came away bloodied. “Bullet’s still inside.”</p><p>“You should see the doctor.” </p><p>“It’ll be fine. I’ll take it out later.” </p><p>“Go, Reaper. I do not want you passing out at the meeting. And yes, you will be expected to attend.”</p><p>Reaper growled in distaste, but the order was clear. He shifted to smoke and ghosted from the room, storming down to Moira’s lab. She looked up from her work, glancing over his head for a moment before returning her gaze to his face. </p><p>“Yes? Something the matter?” </p><p>He gritted his teeth, but took a few deep breaths, trying to get the volatile smoking effect under control as he shed his armor. </p><p>“Got shot. Need healing.” </p><p>“So it would seem.” Her gaze flicked to the floor. He followed her line of sight and noticed a small blood spatter on the tile. “You know the drill.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” He stripped to his boxers and lay down on his uninjured side, wincing as she probed the injury. </p><p>“The bullet’s still inside.”</p><p>He ground his teeth as she probed the wound, then withdrew, humming and hawing over something.</p><p>“<em>What?” </em>he snapped. </p><p>“ Due to the angle it’s at, it will be easier to reach if I access it via an incision.”</p><p>“I am not going under.” </p><p>“Fair enough. I should warn you this will hurt, though.”</p><p>“Just do it.” </p><p>A needle jabbed his side. “So tell me, who was it that did this to you?”</p><p>“Jack Fucking Morrison.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And we caught the boyscout.”</p><p>She started. “Jack Morrison is in custody?”</p><p>“Yeh. Wanted to kill him. Couldn’t. Ogundimu wanted him for information.”</p><p>“Interesting. Deep breath and hold it.”</p><p>A white-hot brand slashed his skin, and he grimaced. Something grated nauseatingly against his ribs. He didn’t look, even as metal clattered against metal. The uncomfortable prickle that accompanied Moira’s healing nanites washed over him  a moment later, followed by the clammy touch of an antiseptic cloth as Moira wiped off the blood. One antibiotic injection later and she was ushering him from the lab, telling him to rest, not even looking at him. He gathered his things and trudged back to his room, his wraith form pooling around his feet. He tumbled into bed.</p><p>Was it just him, or was she very distracted? </p><p>****************************************</p><p>Moira walked into the interrogation room, almost bumping into Akande’s enormous form. He looked up from wiping the blood off his hands. </p><p>“Moira.”</p><p>“Akande. I heard you had one Jack Morrison here.”</p><p>“We do.” He gestured to the window at a very bloodied and bruised man with white hair, whose face was so swollen she barely recognized him.</p><p>“So? Any luck with making him talk?”</p><p>“Not yet. He’ll crack eventually, though. They all do.” </p><p>“What makes you think he knows anything we don’t?”</p><p>Akande glowered at her. </p><p>“Think of it this way; Overwatch has been disbanded for several years now, and neither the news nor our spies have made a peep as far as their activities go. If Overwatch was reforming, then they would not only have to break several laws to do so, but they would also have to reopen their communications networks. Even so, there would be no guarantee he would respond. I think Mr. Morrison here fancies himself a bit of a vigilante and has struck out on his own.” She smiled.</p><p>The Nigerian tossed the stained towel aside and crossed his huge arms. “What is this about, Moira?”</p><p>“I know Gabriel wants to kill him. But, as the last surviving member of the SEP program, he could be of great scientific importance. Think of it; if we had that formula, Talon would grow in strength at a hundredfold rate.” </p><p>“You want him.”</p><p>“I do. Barring that, however, if I was simply able to stabilize Gabriel’s condition to the point he would be able to walk unmasked in public, how much easier would reaching our goals be?”</p><p>Akande tilted his head to the side, thinking. “A good question. Is it worth the expense?”</p><p>“Two soldiers for the price of one,” she said temptingly. “Morrison heals Gabriel’s issues, and in the end we condition him just like we did Lacroix. If Overwatch shows up again, then we will also have a weapon they will never see coming.” </p><p>“Reaper will not be pleased.”</p><p>“It might take some time, but he’ll understand in the end. He always does.” </p><p>“Very well. You have him.” </p><p>Moira turned to the guard squashed into the back corner with a cheshire grin. “Give me your hat.”</p><p>The guard started, but offered the clothing item. She shed her lab coat, tucking the syringe inside into her pocket, and pulled the borrowed hat over her flaming hair. </p><p>“I’ll want him in my lab as soon as he’s suitably tranquilized. Got to do something about those injuries before infection complicates things.” </p><p>The guard nodded and squeezed by Akande. Akande gave her a stern nod and also departed. She checked her reflection in the glass and walked into the room.</p><p>The smell of sweat and blood hit her first. Jack Morrison struggled to raise his bruised, swollen, bloodstained face, and he peered at her through squinted eyes. She knew that his eyesight was terrible, hence the bionic implants and tactical visor. She tutted and walked up to him, carding a hand through his matted hair. She shook out her clean handkerchief, tilted his head back, and began the process of wiping the sweat and blood off the man’s face. He closed his eyes, flinching each time she touched him, growling wordlessly under his breath.</p><p>“Who are you?” he finally asked in a low, rough wheeze.</p><p>She said nothing, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt and uncapping the syringe. The hypodermic was loaded with a mixture of tranquilizers and muscle relaxants, the dosage calculated for an SEP soldier. Jack Morrison wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, which gave her wiggle room to start prepping him for conditioning.</p><p>He flinched and bared his teeth as she sank the needle into the meat of his arm, his feet scrabbling against the floor. His muscles bulged as he flexed, straining against the chains. Unconcerned, she patted his cheek. He stiffened, once, twice, three times, each time sagging more against the cuffs binding him as he tried to fight the drugs. She observed curiously. He had always been such a stubborn nut to crack, almost worse than Gabriel, and watching the fight seep out of him, watching him surrender to the tranquilizer’s pull, felt strangely gratifying. His head lolled back, his eyes shut. She took him in, draped across the chair like a ragdoll, and began to plan.</p><p>*****************</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Challenges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            He dragged consciousness from the blackness like a boot from ankle-deep mud.</p><p>            The quiet hum of the lights threatened to hypnotize him, but the soft clack of a keyboard  kept him grounded, providing a stimulus for his clouded mind to cling to. He breathed in, noting the absence of smell and the pressure on his face, indicating his visor had been returned. He lay flat on his back on a hard surface not padded enough to be comfortable. Something was lodged in his left arm, pinching and biting. The fist of that arm was curled tightly, his fingers achy and stiff and cold. When he tried to stretch them, he found them tightly wrapped. <em>To keep blood flowing. </em>Someone was taking his blood, and by his lightheadedness and fatigue, it felt like he was missing quite a bit.</p><p>            “Angela?” he mumbled, except through his fatigue her name came out as an incomprehensible mumble.</p><p>            “Welcome back, Mr. Morrison.”</p><p>            He tilted his head in the general direction of the voice. The person who addressed him sat among piles of paper and stacks of equipment, a charcoal beret embossed with a dagger-shaped T thrown carelessly to one side. The person’s height, anemic frame and skin tone, and bright hair, combined with that familiar brogue, made the individual instantly recognizable, though he hadn’t seen her in years.</p><p>            “<em>You</em>.”</p><p>            She got up and made her way over to him. “Well, who else were you expecting?”</p><p>            “How long have you been in Talon’s pocket?”</p><p>            “Long enough.” Her long fingers brushed his forehead. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>            He jerked against the straps, trying to startle her, but she didn’t move. “Why don’t you let me up and find out?”</p><p>            “I think it’s best not to.” She responded without skipping a beat. “We both know you had worsening  anger issues even all the way back with Overwatch. Safety concerns. I’m sure you understand.” She smiled down at him. “Maybe we can fix that, hm?”</p><p>            His throat knotted painfully. “I don’t need your help,” he ground out.</p><p>            “You don’t?” Her question sounded almost genuine.</p><p>            <em>Patronizing bitch. </em>She knew about his vision, and he was pretty sure she could guess at his other aches and pains that the SEP had brought on prematurely. “Don’t pretend you’re doing this for my good. It’s fucking laughable.”</p><p>            “Perhaps, but you will likely benefit from my research anyway.”</p><p>            He barked a laugh. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that? We both know that once you’re finished with your experiments, you’re going to toss me aside like garbage. Don’t pretend differently when I know it’s just bullshit.”</p><p>            She scoffed. “I have more respect for you than that, Jack. We both know what you are.”</p><p>            “So what?”</p><p>            “So,” she said slowly, as though she were talking to a particularly slow child, “you’re one of two known survivors of the SEP. In exchange for saving your life, you’re going to help me fix Gabriel.”</p><p>            “If you can’t undo whatever you did to him, I can’t help you. His DNA is so far beyond fucked-up I’m not sure if he technically qualifies as a human being anymore.”</p><p>            “You don’t know that,” she said mildly. “Your blood could be just the answer I’m looking for.” She smiled crookedly. “We’ll find out.”</p><p>            “That why you’re trying to drain me dry?”</p><p>            Her smile widened, perfect teeth glinting through a gap in her colorless lips. “Feeling a bit lightheaded? Poor Jack.”</p><p>            “You’re going to kill someone this way someday.” One of the machines he was hooked to chirped.</p><p>            “Perhaps, but you’re the first I actually want enough blood from to kill. I won’t let you die like that, though. You’re too valuable.” She carefully extricated the needle from his arm and unwrapped his fingers. He flexed his hand a couple of times, trying to restore circulation.</p><p>            “Better?”</p><p>            “As if you care.” He growled.</p><p>            “Contrary to your belief, I do.” She hefted the blood bag in gloved hands, crossed the lab, and stashed it in a cooling unit before returning to him. “Now, as <em>pleasant</em>as catching up has been, I’m afraid chatting is cutting into my timetables.” Her fingers reached for his head like huge pale spiders trying to capture an insect. He jerked away, trying to avoid her touch.</p><p>            “Stop squirming. Honestly. It’s not as if you’re going anywhere; those restraints were meant to hold Gabriel during his fits.” Her fingernails scratched at the releases on his visor.</p><p>            A vein pulsed in his neck. “What have you been doing to him?”</p><p>            “You still care about him? After all this time? How <em>adorable.</em>”</p><p>            He gritted his teeth as the visor released, his vision blurring into blobs of color. His heart skipped a beat.<em>Fuck</em>. The terrorist bastard who headed Talon must have fucked up the implants during the interrogation. Which meant he’d be essentially blind until the implants were replaced or his visor was returned to him.</p><p>He growled at her, trying to suppress the knot of anxiety in his stomach. “Not so much that as I want to know how far down the fucking rabbit hole you’ve dragged him.”</p><p>            “He <em>wants</em>me to continue. Surely you know by now how tiring hiding behind a mask all the time is.”</p><p>            He said nothing. He knew perfectly well how that felt.</p><p>            “Tell me, Jack, what would you give to not have to hide anymore?”</p><p>            He shuddered as she touched him, her thumbs tugging lightly at his eyelids. “I’ve made my peace with my challenges. That he never made peace with his is <em>his </em>problem, not mine.”</p><p>            She tsked. “Don’t be such a pessimist. It’s not your fault this happened. I can fix it, if you let me.”</p><p>            “I think your price is too high.”</p><p>            “I haven’t even named it yet.”</p><p>            “Whatever you’re expecting me to pay, it’s not worth it.”</p><p>            She moved out of sight. “What if I do it as a favor?”</p><p>            He laughed harshly. “Just admit you want to use me in your experiments. I’ll believe you more.”</p><p>            She returned and leaned over him, the white and black of her lab coat and shirt blotting out his vision, her purple tie bisecting her blotchy form like an ugly, gaping wound. He flinched as her left hand made contact with him, pressing against his forehead. Feather-light pressure tickled against his upper eyelid as she leaned closer. He flinched and shut his eyes, trying not to give the scientist a target with the tool she held.  She let out a soft snort, and  the tool traced its way to the corner of his eyes and over his temple. It stung as it parted contact with his skin.</p><p>            “No reaction. Hm.” Steel clattered against steel. “Strange.” She paused, and he could hear her pen scratching.</p><p>            “What are you up to?”</p><p>            “Trying to figure out why you can’t see. It looks like you have scars from implants, but they don’t seem to be functioning.”</p><p>            “And you know that…”</p><p>            “Because I just had a scalpel right up against your eye and you didn’t react in the least little bit,” she said matter-of-factly. </p><p>            The anxiety in his gut chewed on this information, digested it, and grew, twisting in on itself. <em>She could have gouged my eyes out there and then. </em></p><p>            “Of course there are other tests I could run, but this was equally effective and didn’t require you to cooperate, so I can’t argue with it. I suppose your chat with Akande explains the fact that the implants aren’t working.”</p><p>            “Absolute brilliance, Doctor. Never would have guessed that myself, with my injuries.”</p><p>            “What a sense of gallows humor.” Her fingers touched his head, prying at his eyes again.  “You and Gabriel both. I fail to see why you didn’t get along.”</p><p>            “Same reason you and Dr. Ziegler didn’t  get along. He cut corners and people got hurt.”</p><p>            “You can’t condemn his approach honestly. You know that. It got results, and in the end that was what you wanted.”</p><p>            Jack ground his teeth. She jostled his chin with a sharp pat.</p><p>            “Oh, come now. Just because your and my ideals are closer than you’d like doesn’t mean those results are a bad thing.”</p><p>            “I’ll never go as far as you.”</p><p>            “There are few who will. But it still never ceases to amaze me how many people will look the other way if the rules are bent in favor of results they like. Not even the mighty Overwatch was free from that. Point is, you’re splitting hairs when morality becomes a matter of not whether you bend the rules, but how much you bend them.” she pried his eye open, and before he could wrest out of her grip, he felt a cold droplet hit his eye. The liquid burned as it worked its way into his eye socket.</p><p>            “What are you doing?” he growled.</p><p>            “I’ve got to perform a thorough examination in order to figure out why you’re blind, don’t I? As for why you’re still awake, I’m mostly just enjoying our conversation.”</p><p>            “You do this with all the poor fucks you catch and experiment on?”</p><p>            “Only the interesting ones. And you, Jack, are extraordinary. Why, I might even find a way to clone a human eye thanks to you, should I need to perform an orbitectomy. The eye is one of the most complex structures in the body, you know.”</p><p>            “You make me sick.”</p><p>            “And you’re predictable.”</p><p>            “Go to hell.”</p><p>            She sighed. “I suppose you couldn’t entertain me forever.” She picked something up. “But all good things in moderation. We’ll talk again soon, I’m sure.” Her teeth flashed white above him. “Sweet dreams, Commander.”</p><p>            He flexed against the straps binding him as she swabbed his arm.</p><p>            “It’s funny how such a big, strong soldier who’s so used to injections gets spooked by a little needle.”</p><p>            “It’s not that.”</p><p>            “It’s me, what I might do to you? You flatter me. Here I was thinking you were fearless. We’ll have to see what other little phobias we can turn up.”</p><p>            He winced as the needle lanced his arm.</p><p>            “I’m resistant to most of the crap you use.”</p><p>            “You think I don’t know that?” She asked, her voice soft and slick. “You think I haven’t run across such issues when working with Gabriel?” She tsked. “No matter. The fact is, I know how you’re built, Jack, and I know how to counter that.”</p><p>            Jack felt his grip on reality fading.</p><p>            “I’m going to unmake you. But don’t let that worry you too much. Because when I finally put you back together, you’ll be perfect.”</p><p>            ************************</p><p>            The clock read 23:21 when the lab lights flickered. Moira paused in the report she was typing to address the looming shadow that had suddenly appeared in the corner. She surreptitiously palmed her miniaturized biotic device. He would be furious, and she knew well enough what to expect when he was seething.</p><p>            “Yes, Gabriel?”</p><p>            “Where is he?”</p><p>            “Where is who?”</p><p>            “Don’t play coy with me,” the masked merc ground out. “You know who I mean.”</p><p>            Moira sighed. “I can’t have you kill him, not when he’s at our mercy. He’s too valuable.”</p><p>            The lights seemed to dim as the shadows flared. “I have waited <em>too long </em>for this. You <em>will </em>not take it from me.” The Reaper snarled.</p><p>            “Gabriel, <em>please-</em>“</p><p>            “NO!” he bellowed. “I’m tired of you telling me to be patient! No more waiting!” He ghosted towards the door. Moira extended her right hand and aimed her beam of decay nanobiotics at him. He groaned as they sapped his energy. She didn’t stop until he doubled over, wheezing. She faded to his side and knelt next to him. He hacked a curse, something dark dripping down his mask.</p><p>            “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to do that, and I don’t want to continue. But you need to listen.”</p><p>            He tilted his mask off his face a little and spat blood. “I have a list. It’s all I live for. But go ahead, steal that from me too, just like you stole the rest of my life.”</p><p>            “I’m not trying to steal anything from you. But he has something that he can give you.”</p><p>            “I know.”</p><p>            “<em>Before </em>you kill him.”</p><p>            He laughed harshly, wheezed, coughed, and spat more blood. “Is it even worth the wait?”</p><p>            “Do you want me to fix what’s happened to you?”</p><p>            “What do <em>you </em>think? I’ve been following you around for years, <em>waiting</em>.”</p><p>            “Jack can give me data that might help you. All I’m asking is a little extra patience.”</p><p>            He hoisted himself to his feet with a grunt, hunching over. “How much longer?”</p><p>            “These things-“</p><p>            “Take time. Not what I asked.” He adjusted his mask with a jerk.</p><p>            “I don’t know. A few months, maybe. Let me get you something for the pain.”</p><p>            Black pits stared back at her. “You’re lying. You’ve promised him to one of your projects.”</p><p>            “I’ve promised him to Akande. If the programming doesn’t take-“</p><p>            He swore, swiping at the beakers on a nearby surface and covering the floor in glass and liquid, then stormed from her lab. She scowled after him and began to clean the hazardous mess.</p><p>            <em>If the programming doesn’t take, Reaper can kill him. </em></p><p>But Jack was valuable. It seemed no one else saw that but her. Gabriel’s genes were too far gone to study the effects of the SEP serum any further, but Jack had not only survived, but reacted better than a huge chunk of cases she’d looked at in the past. For all intents and purposes, he was the last surviving member of the SEP. She should know. She kept careful tabs on them, and none of the survivors had fared as well as Jack.</p><p>            And Talon wanted him dead.</p><p>            <em>Such a waste. </em></p><p>            She pursed her lips, trying to think of how she might be able to preserve the man. Frozen samples only went so far. But then again, they hadn’t started conditioning yet. She sat down at her computer and ordered new glassware.</p><p>            She seemed to be going through a lot of it these days.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things get more interesting after this chapter. Promise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Conflict of Interest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            She found him sulking in his room at lunch. He sat on his bed, making the springs creak, and glowered silently into the sorry meal.</p><p>            “Gabriel.”</p><p>            He grunted by way of response, picking at a soupy pile of something that might have once been potatoes. He didn’t take his meals in the cafeteria, and under the harsh lighting, she could see why.</p><p>            “You missed your weekly check-up. You know how important they are.”</p><p>            “I didn’t ask to be scolded by you. And I didn’t ask for your interference.”</p><p>            “I’m aware. But sulking won’t change the facts.”</p><p>            “That you meddle in everything you touch?”</p><p>            “That I want what’s <em>best </em>for you, Gabriel.”</p><p>            His fork pinged off the wall next to her. “I don’t need you to take my parents’ place.”</p><p>            She ignored the warning shot. “Of course not. But you and I share a common goal in this instance. You want to fix the way you look, and so do I. Morrison can help both of us, but I need him alive.”</p><p>            “You can harvest from dead tissue.” He impaled the anemic chicken with his knife and chewed off a bite.</p><p>            “Freezing will damage the samples, an as soon as he’s dead the tissue will begin to degrade. Use your wrath constructively and chase some of your other targets while I formulate your cure.”</p><p>            He stabbed the tray. “You’ll come up with another excuse to keep him alive. You always do.”</p><p>            “And don’t I always make sense?”</p><p>            “Yeah. Fuck you.”</p><p>            “Gabriel. <em>Really</em>. Surely you have better things to do than chase this old grudge around. It’s consuming you. “</p><p>            “Don’t have much left except that.”</p><p>            She frowned. She should tell him, and now seemed like a good time since it was a relevant topic, but he was seething, and he always became so bullheaded when he was angry. No, telling him now would risk an unprecedented explosion of anger, and she didn’t have the capability to deal with that right now. Containing him if he got that upset would take a tremendous amount of effort, quite a bit of planning, and some powerful tranquilizers. She had exactly one of the three, and even if she was successful in temporarily restraining him, he would be nearly impossible to talk down. Talon liked him the way he was, and trying to remedy that for the greater good was not happening here and now.</p><p>            “Is there a reason you’re still bothering me?” Reyes growled.</p><p>            “I need a blood sample from you to continue treatment.”</p><p>            “It couldn’t wait until <em>after </em>dinner?”</p><p>            “I’ve already delayed a week because you missed your appointment. <em>Please.</em>”</p><p>            “<em>Fine.”</em>He thrust an arm towards her, gnawing anemic meat off his knife and not looking at her. She turned her attention to the sample taking.</p><p>            “<em>Agh!”</em></p><p>            “I haven’t-“She looked up from his freshly-swabbed arm and saw he was holding his mouth, maroon oozing from between his fingers, his knife in the other hand. She sighed. “I told you not to eat off your knife.”</p><p>            He wraithed through her grip, toppling his tray in the process, looming over her. “Get out.”</p><p>            “Gabriel-“</p><p>            “Get OUT! I’ve had enough of you intruding on my space. Get out and don’t come back!”</p><p>            She relented, collected her things, and left. There was no point arguing when he was like this.</p><p>*****************************</p><p>            He nursed his aching mouth as she slipped from the room.</p><p>            “Good riddance,” He growled, tasting blood. It was probably a good thing he’d been part of the SEP program, or the wound would have probably needed surgery or intervention to fix. He went into the bathroom and spat blood into the sink, watching the maroon hues swirl down the drain. He gripped the sink and stared blankly at the budget tile, thinking. He didn’t have a mirror because he hated his own reflection and, even if he didn’t, he’d probably wind up smashing it anyway on a bad day.</p><p>            He frowned. He hated feeling this gnawing anger all the time. One of his treatments had gone a little bit off, Moira had told him the first time he noticed his ever-present anger issues, and this was the result. Anger, 24/7. Moira was working on it, she said, but it wasn’t an easy fix. Brain chemistry was a tricky thing.</p><p>            Whatever.</p><p>            It was taking her too long to fix his issues.</p><p>            She’d had years now, more time that she’d taken to fix the SEP damage. Surely the issues he was currently facing weren’t as complex as his SEP troubles, but if he brought it up, she’d probably just fling it back in his face as him not understanding chemistry or something. That had always been her excuse previously.</p><p>            Though he supposed his reluctance to give her samples was complicating things a bit.</p><p>            He shivered and splashed his face. Getting CSF taken was a nasty business. But Moira needed it for analysis, so he provided…on days he felt like it, which came few and far between anymore. He was so goddamned tired of being poked, and he made sure she knew that every time he crossed her lab threshold. He could feel her mounting frustration with him every time he told her he was over this whole “test subject” thing, but he didn’t want to give her any other notion than he was there solely to try to fix the issues he was having.</p><p> The bed sagged a few millimeters lower as he sat down on the edge, and he glanced down at the remains of his ruined meal. His stomach grumbled in protest of its lack of food. Oh well. Lunch was shit anyway. The meal budgets were one of the first things that had gotten slashed in the interest of saving Talon money, so the quality had taken a steep nosedive, and everyone’s mood had suffered as a result. Unbeknownst to the doctor, her projects were also on the chopping block. Maybe then they’d give him Jack, when there wasn’t enough in the account for her to finish her project. She’d be pissed as all get-out if they decided to axe her work.</p><p>He could relate.</p><p>He picked up his phone. Moira had sent him a message.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t forget about the board meeting. </em>
</p><p>Oh yeah. The very meeting to decide her funding cuts. Well, this was going to be fun.</p><p>He got up and composed a quick message to her.</p><p>
  <em>Out to get real food. Will meet in lab after meeting. </em>
</p><p>The reply came quickly.</p><p>
  <em>Pick me up a triple espresso, extra cream, extra sugar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you ever eat anything? </em>
</p><p><em>When I need to, </em>the response said. He grunted as the words played in her self-assured tone in his head.</p><p>It was pointless to argue with her. She could be almost as stubborn as he was.</p><p>****************************</p><p>“<em>That </em>was a disaster.”</p><p>“You think?” Moira paced the shining tile, gesturing frenetically and spattering droplets of overly-sweetened coffee all over the counters. Her hair was frizzing and slipping out from its neatly-combed state. “Maximilien’s million-dollar business events go untouched, but they decide to slash my budget by a quarter! <em>A quarter!</em>I <em>need </em>that money! How on this green earth am I supposed to keep up with my work when I don’t have the funding to do it?”</p><p>“To be fair, the Omnic’s parties do pull in a lot of money,” he said.</p><p>She glared at him. “You weren’t so keen on things changing when it was <em>your </em>plans being hacked to pieces. And need I remind you that my work keeps you alive?”</p><p>His temper boiled over. “Hasn’t worked so well lately, <em>has </em>it?”</p><p>She stepped up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “What if something <em>did </em>happen? What <em>then? </em>Am I supposed to stand there and watch you disintegrate on the pavement? And what would Talon do without you or Lacroix?” She took a pull at the coffee and hurled the half-empty cup at the bin. The lid came off, splattering the wall with coffee. “They’d be down to using brute force and conniving tricks to get their way at that point. Without my research, they’re just another hive of villainy.”</p><p>“So? It works for them.”</p><p>“So? <em>So? </em>We’re no better than any mud-bellied crime syndicate at that point. The whole <em>point </em>of Talon was that it went beyond common criminal activities and stupid gimmicks. We’re supposed to be the people who will go to any length to see humanity escape its flaws, not be swallowed by them.” She rubbed at her forehead. “They could do better than this. But instead they’re just getting jerked around by the people who want to <em>sell </em>Talon’s ideals. And <em>fuck </em>anything that’s not profitable. <em>Fucking </em>ridiculous.”</p><p>“Someone’s touchy.”</p><p>“And you <em>weren’t </em>about Jack?” A sneer twisted her mouth “Well, congratulations, Gabriel; if they don’t see any progress in Jack’s conditioning in a few weeks, then he’s all yours. You have plenty of time to plan a creative way to kill your primary target.”</p><p>“You don’t have enough time to crack him?”</p><p>She snorted. “Lacroix took about two months. There’s no way to budge him in that short of a time frame. You should know.”</p><p>He grunted and crossed his arms. “Right. Now what?”</p><p>“I’m going to continue work as long as I can to try to help you out, but after that…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”</p><p>“What you’re saying could get you killed.”</p><p>She waved a hand. “Yes, yes. I’m aware. But if Talon can’t fund me, I need to move on.” She looked up at him. “For your sake just as much as anyone’s.”</p><p>“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he growled.</p><p>She turned to her computer and sat down. “Well, the trash can’s in the corner.”</p><p>He stayed put. “Didn’t peg you for the sappy type, Doc.”</p><p>“Only when those at risk are of scientific importance. I will not see my work wasted.”</p><p>“’Course.”</p><p>“Is there something you still need, or can I get back to work? My window is closing, and I’ve got to process your samples.”</p><p>“No, nothing else. Later.”</p><p>The precise, staccato tap of the keyboard was his only answer as he slipped from the lab, nursing the small but stubborn knot of concern that had formed in his gut.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Decisions, Decisions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Akande.”</p><p>The martial artist looked up from the financial reports spread out across his desk and nodded at Moira.</p><p>“Ah, Doctor. Come in and sit.”</p><p>She did so, crossing her arms. “I’m not happy.”</p><p>“You’re one of many I’ve spoken to today that aren’t happy. None of us are, really. But funding is stalling, and we have to draw in more money from somewhere. Admittedly, that means we have to tighten our metaphorical belts in the meantime if we are to stay afloat.”</p><p>“You <em>know </em>how important my work is. Why would you decide to cut my funding?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, your work has a reputation for being very costly as well. Specialized equipment, staff, maintenance fees for all the subjects your experiments require…It’s just too much, considering our other expenses in growing our military presence. And you know how essential that is to the grander plan.” He gave her a rare smile that felt too well-timed to be entirely genuine.</p><p>“What about Talon’s commitment to progress?”</p><p>“We’ll get there, Doctor. Your skills <em>will </em>be prioritized again. But first we need to gather up the ends of crumbling society and sift through the chaff.”</p><p>“And what about the Widowmaker? The Reaper? Sigma? Morrison? The former two need constant maintenance and the latter two need completion. I’ve barely started in with Morrison, and you want to axe the project before it even has a name?”</p><p>Akande leaned on his desk, lacing his fingers together pensively. “The former two can survive off of your current work, and Sigma has the support structure required to maintain his utility. As for Morrison, you seem unsure you can turn him. And he will be expensive to turn.”</p><p>“He will be. But it shouldn’t stop us. He’s very valuable, as you know, and in more than one capacity.”</p><p>The chair groaned under the mountainous man. “Perhaps. But everything has a price tag, and I’m afraid Morrison’s is too high. Keeping him around isn’t an option, either; he’ll cause untold trouble if he escapes. You should let it go, Moira, and allow Reaper to dispose of him.”</p><p>She stared at her boss, her expression just shy of a glare. “You know he’s the last living SEP member?”</p><p>“Reaper is still alive, is he not?”</p><p>“Reyes’ SEP modifications have become so muddled with all his enhancements I couldn’t pick them out if I tried.”</p><p>“Get your samples, then. I’ll give you a few weeks, but I want Morrison gone by then.”</p><p>She thought a moment, mentally fishing for an argument that might sway Akande to keep Morrison alive.</p><p>She could come up with nothing.</p><p>The money was gone, and Akande was right; without the rounds of chemicals and conditioning necessary to subdue the super-soldier, he was too dangerous to keep alive.</p><p>She stood. “Then your decision is final.”</p><p>“It is. See to it, and soon you’ll be able to pursue any experiment you could dream of.”</p><p>“Then I have planning to do. Good day, Akande.”</p><p>She faded from his office and returned to her lab, trying to map her next course of action. She grimaced as she put the pieces together.</p><p>No one was going to like this plan, her least of all.</p><p>But she was going to do what she had to, and Ogundimu be damned.</p><p>****************************</p><p>How much time had passed?</p><p>Jack couldn’t tell; he’d dipped in and out of consciousness so many times since being captured that fighting crime on the streets felt like a lifetime ago. Now there was only white rooms and biting cold, the mutters of the scientists and the pall of powerful drugs, half-remembered dreams and the ever-louder whispers in his head. He’d been tortured before, but never experienced anything quite like this. They asked him no questions and caused him no discernible pain, preferring instead to skew his sense of time and reality until he could not distinguish dreams from waking and the voices in his head from memories. Had he always fought with a large chunk of Overwatch, or was that just another of the scientists’ fabrications?</p><p>His palms bore fingernail marks where he’d drawn blood trying to stay awake and aware. They had cut his nails to the quick after each incident, but it didn’t stop him. Pain was good; it gave him something to focus on besides the whispers. Though they’d stopped the experiments these past few days before dragging him over here, and he had to wonder why.</p><p> He set his too-short nails into the grooves  in his hand. He would need his wits about him today as much as any day.</p><p>The sharp tap of shoes on tile indicated the scientists’ arrival. He looked over, noting the familiar flash of orange, but couldn’t pick out anyone else.</p><p>“Just us today?” He asked hoarsely.</p><p>She didn’t respond. He almost jumped as something hit one of the counters with a sharp smack.</p><p>“Not feeling conversational, Doctor?”</p><p>“I am on limited time, so yes.”</p><p>“Shame. Was hoping we’d get a chance to talk.”</p><p>She snorted. “<em>Were </em>you now? I got the impression you rather detested me.”</p><p>“You’re not wrong. But you sound flustered. You’re <em>never </em>flustered.”</p><p>“That is my business, not yours.” She approached, and even though he couldn’t track her eye movement, he felt her gaze raking his body. Her fingers brushed over his fists. “Do I need to pull your nails out to stop you from hurting yourself?”</p><p>“By all means. Pain is good. Helps keep you from getting inside my head.”</p><p>She made a displeased noise, and he heard her pen scratching. “Well, luckily for you, that’s no longer my objective.”</p><p>He let out a coarse, short laugh. <em>Brainwashing him wasn’t her objective. </em>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“<em>Would</em> you mind? You don’t have much time left, and we need to talk.”</p><p>“First I’ve heard of it. What, Reaper threatening to off the project you’ve made of me?”</p><p>“Ogundimu, actually. He ordered me to do it by the end of next week.”</p><p>Silence fell as he grasped for something to say. The <em>fuck </em>was he supposed to react to that?</p><p> “Starting to get the picture, are we?” She drawled. “Long story short, Talon’s been shuffling money around and they didn’t have as much as they thought. All unnecessary work has been suspended. Which apparently includes mine.”</p><p>“Big terrorist organization cut ties with their objectives in favor of cash. Shocker. You think I feel bad for you? After what you did to Gabriel? To Lacroix? After what you tried to do to me?”</p><p>She slammed a hand down on the counter. “Do you honestly think I cared to make yet another weapon for Talon? If you die, the last SEP member will be gone, and with it, any promise that the SEP formula could have offered!”</p><p>“You want to get that formula just so you can sell it back to Talon or the fucking highest bidder!”</p><p>Stars burst in his eyes, his teeth snapping together. It took him a second to realize what had happened.</p><p>She’d hit him.</p><p>“You absolute <em>thick.</em>I would <em>never </em>sell my work for the sake of money. <em>Ever.</em>Knowledge is its own reward.”</p><p>“Talon bought you.”</p><p>“Talon <em>funded </em>me when no one else would. Tell me that if you were in my position at the time you wouldn’t.”</p><p>“You sold out to <em>terrorists.</em>”</p><p>She turned away. “I sold out for an ideal. Have you ever heard Akande talk?”</p><p>He worked his still-stinging jaw. “No interest.”</p><p>            “He’s…poetic. Flowery, almost. Behind that mountain of a man is a mind as sharp as mine, and when I first heard him speak, I was utterly captivated. As are many he speaks with.” She sighed. “The visions he weaves…Were it so easy to achieve his goal without so much death.”</p><p>            “Why should I care that you don’t care for his plan anymore?”</p><p>            “Because I think that the death toll in his plan is far too high. I’ve always seen his plan like that, but every time he revises it, the dead only pile higher. And for what?” She scoffed. “If he continues like this, there won’t be anyone left to populate his ‘perfect earth’.”</p><p>            “What a story, Doc. Are you going to do a one-eighty and spend all your time at refugee camps treating injuries?” <em>Because that’s the only possible way you could redeem yourself, and even then, that’s pushing it. </em></p><p>            She tutted. “You think too small, Jack. I would still retain my position as Minster, and from there I’d be able to make careful changes.”</p><p>            “You’ve thought about this a lot, huh?”</p><p>            “Every day that I had time to think.”</p><p>            “Talon will ki-“</p><p>            She turned back to him, her cyan tie swinging metronomically. “I know. Which is why I need your help.”</p><p>            “<em>My </em>help? What could I possibly help you with? Or <em>want </em>to help you with.”</p><p>            “I’m going to save your life, fix your vision, and help you escape. In return, you’ll talk to whoever you can and tell them I want to meet. I have information on Akande’s plans, but I won’t give it until I’ve had a proper meeting with what remains of Overwatch. That seems a fair trade to you, doesn’t it?”</p><p>            Gabriel and Gerard’s faces popped to the forefront of his mind. “<em>Fuck </em>you,” he said flatly, pointing ineffectually with a bound hand to punctuate his statement.      </p><p>“Choose,” she told him, not falling for his jab. “And be quick about it. Gabriel has an appointment with me pre-mission, and I want you long gone by then. I personally don’t think this is a hard choice.”</p><p>            “ Maybe it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t already fucked over Overwatch and two of its members before.”</p><p>            “I’m practically crawling back to them, kissing their shoes. Unbend your ego enough to realize how hard this is for me to even ask, let alone to offer such a deal.”</p><p>            “Yeah, you always did have such an air of superiority.”</p><p>            “<em>Morrison. </em>Enough stalling. If you’ve made up your mind, tell me, but if not, I would suggest you hurry. We have ten minutes left.</p><p>“How do I know this isn’t a ruse to coax the rest of Overwatch out of hiding?”</p><p>            “Obviously I wouldn’t be going through such irritating and painstaking channels if I thought I could escape Talon another way.”</p><p>            Though he could barely make out her face, he knew she wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t risk this much on someone who had already disowned her if she didn’t have any other option.</p><p>            Unless, of course, Talon had successfully conditioned him already and this whole thing was a ruse to make him buy into finding Overwatch until the sleeper programming was activated.</p><p>            “Tell me I’m not going to pull an Amelie.”</p><p>            “There wasn’t enough time to break you, was there?” She replied silkily.</p><p>            “How long have I been here?”</p><p>            “About two weeks.”</p><p>            “Feels like longer.”</p><p>            “I’m not surprised. Lacroix said the same thing when she was passing through conditioning, according to her records. That you still remember enough to have some sense of passed time is a good thing.”</p><p>            He flinched at the mention of the dancer-turned-assassin. “And what if I don’t want your modifications?” He growled.</p><p>            “Where do you plan to go without them? Hm? It’s not as though you can escape merely by <em>feeling </em>your way around a jet.”</p><p>            “Fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll see what I can do. I don’t have any contact with anyone  else-“</p><p>            “We know you’re  traveling with the elder Amari. I’ll see if I can’t get Sombra to help me locate some of the members as well.”</p><p>            His eyebrows rose. “She won’t tell?”</p><p>            Her Oxfords rapped on the floor as she stood up. “Not if I make her a good enough deal. I’ll finalize the logistics  and find a specialist for the procedure. The sooner we get it done, the better.”</p><p>            He grimaced. “Wonderful. Sure it’s gonna be just a <em>grand </em>old time.”</p><p>            “It will cause some discomfort, yes. More importantly, though, I want you to keep the bandages on after your eyes have healed. Surprising the guards will give you an advantage when everything is ready.”</p><p>            “All right. Let me up now?”</p><p>            “I’m afraid not. Keeping up appearances is important as of now. And in Talon’s eyes, you’re still a threat.”</p><p>He felt a sudden pain in his arm, and before he could ask what she was doing, he tumbled back into darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Deal?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Look at him. <em>This </em>is what we were scared of?”</p>
<p>He stumbled as one of the guards shoved him and gritted his teeth, twisting his hands in the magnetic cuffs he wore. Moira had completed the procedure on him yesterday, leaving him completely blind and in significant pain. His eyes still itched and burned, and he longed to tear off the bandage wrapped around his eyes.</p>
<p>Still, it beat being tranquilized every time they moved him. Moira must have convinced them he was considerably less of a threat now.</p>
<p>“Wonder what else O’Deorain’s going to do with him. Think she’ll try to replicate Widowmaker?”</p>
<p>“Nah, this one’s as good as dead. Heard them talking about it a few days ago. Maybe she’ll pick him apart afterwards.”</p>
<p>“That’s disgusting.”</p>
<p>“It’s the truth. Besides, you’re the one who brought it up.”</p>
<p>Jack tugged at the restraints as the guards bickered and pushed him along, trying to figure out how easy the cuffs would be to break out of. The magnets wouldn’t give the slightest bit, so they must have been made for someone as strong as him. That, or he was losing muscle tone.</p>
<p>Either way, he wondered how he was going to escape them when the time came.</p>
<p>“Move it.”</p>
<p>He stumbled as someone shoved him again.</p>
<p>“Gentlemen, be careful. I don’t want to have to patch up injuries on my subject. It’s a waste of supplies,” a familiar voice drawled.</p>
<p>Jack ground his teeth as the guards snickered. Moira played her part very well, he had to give her that much. He put up a convincing struggle as they dragged him onto Moira’s lab table and bound him there. The door servos hissed, and the lab fell silent. He waited for a long minute, listening to the hiss of the AC and tugging at the restraints.</p>
<p>“You gonna let me up?”</p>
<p>            “Yes, yes. Have an ounce of patience.”</p>
<p>            He rolled his head left to right and tried to relax on the slab of a table. The seed of doubt he harbored towards her grew, winding its way through his thoughts. There was always the possibility she was bald-faced lying to him to get him to cooperate…</p>
<p>“How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>            “Like hell. Let me up.”</p>
<p>            “That’s not helpful,” she groused. “Be a bit more cooperative.”</p>
<p>            He bared his teeth in a grin. “I feel like my eyeballs are on fire. Happy?”</p>
<p>            A pen scratched. “You’ll need to be more descriptive, but it’s a start, I suppose.” She walked closer. He tensed reflexively.</p>
<p>            “Relax, Jack. I’ve no intention of hurting you.”</p>
<p>            The straps pinning him fell away, and he sat up, wincing as a spike of pain jammed into both his eyes.</p>
<p>            “Let’s have a look.”</p>
<p>            He flinched as her long, cold fingers caught his face and carefully unwound the bandage wrapped around his head. He squinted at the floor, which stayed blurry and almost too bright to look at.</p>
<p>            “Did you actually fix my vision or not?” He growled, blinking a few times. The floor stayed just as undefined as ever.</p>
<p>            “It will take <em>time</em>, Jack,” she said, her voice exasperated. She took his chin.</p>
<p>            He pulled away. “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s not something we have.”</p>
<p>            “With treatment we’ll have enough time. Lacroix’s modifications took about four days to heal. You’ll be fine. Now hold still and let me work.”</p>
<p>            “Am I going to wind up with yellow eyes too?” He asked as she tilted his head up.</p>
<p>            “We’ll see. Each individual reacts a little differently to the modifications.”</p>
<p>             “How many people have you tested this on?”</p>
<p>            She dabbed at his cheeks with something cold and damp. “Enough to know it’s effective. Don’t be like that,” she told him as he grimaced, “most of them knew what they were getting into and signed waivers saying they accepted the risks.”</p>
<p>            Jack snorted. “Yeah, well <em>most </em>will get you thrown in federal prison if you go back to working with Overwatch.”</p>
<p>            She tsked. “My position as Minister of Genetics has afforded me plenty of volunteers for my trials. I don’t need to use people Talon snatched off the streets anymore.”</p>
<p>            “Wonderful. I’m sure your research is one hundred percent ethical and definitely legitimate now.”</p>
<p>            “Once I slip Talon’s noose, it will be by Oasis law. And I’ll pursue what I want, not any more of this human weapon-making. I’m a geneticist, not a weaponsmith.”</p>
<p>            “Dunno. Your human weapons are effective as hell.”</p>
<p>            She made a noncommittal noise. “Effective, yes. But exceedingly unhappy. It’s a travesty, really; no one should resent the gifts science has to offer, and yet they do due to the unfortunate circumstances.”</p>
<p>            “Speaking of which, I assume they’ll pursue you at some point.”</p>
<p>            She sighed. “I’m certain Ogundimu will send them after me when he’s figured out what’s happened. If Overwatch is willing to play bodyguard to me, I may be able to help neutralize them. My betrayal won’t come without consequences, after all.”</p>
<p>            “Anything else you want to add to your laundry list of demands?”</p>
<p>            “You get to scratch three of Talon’s most important assets off your list, and in return all I want is a little insurance. Is that too hard to ask?”</p>
<p>            “Depends on the price we’ll pay trying to save your wretched skin.”</p>
<p>            “<em>Really.</em>” She sounded affronted. Fine by him. “Is it so hard to find a little respect? I ask you…”</p>
<p>            “You do realize that one good deed doesn’t automatically undo all the harm and death you’ve caused, don’t you?”</p>
<p>            “What’s that colloquialism? ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?’ I’ve neither the time nor inclination to explain my actions, and your constant jabs are starting to get on my nerves. So kindly take my help and <em>keep your silence.” </em></p>
<p>            “You’ll tell us why someday. And you’d better have a <em>damn </em>good reason.”</p>
<p>            “<em>Someday. </em>Not <em>right now. </em>Right now we need to discuss more important things. Like how you are going to escape in one piece.”</p>
<p>            He started, taken aback. Serious conversation, really? And here he was thinking they were just going to trade jabs.</p>
<p>            “Cat got your tongue? Good. Then listen closely; I only feel like repeating this once. Here’s what we’re going to do…”</p>
<p>            *************************</p>
<p>            “Hola, Doc.”</p>
<p>            Moira jumped, a drop of acid quivering on her pipette directly above her hand.</p>
<p>            “I’m working,” she snapped at the hacker.</p>
<p>            “Yeah, I know. Just checking in on my favorite scientist.”</p>
<p>            She finished transferring the chemical, carefully put the pipette down, and turned to the hacker. “Well, your carking habit of not announcing yourself before your arrival nearly caused me to spill hydrofluoric acid on myself.”</p>
<p>            “Sorry, sorry,” Sombra said, not sounding sorry at all.</p>
<p>            “Do you understand the flesh-eating capabilities of hydrofluoric acid, or do you need a demonstration?”</p>
<p>            The Mexican woman flinched. “<em>Ay. </em>I did say sorry.”</p>
<p>            Moira snorted. “Oh yes. <em>Very </em>sorry, I’m sure. What do you want?”</p>
<p>            “You seemed busy lately, so the Boss-Man sent me to check up on you. I think he’s worried about your little science project escaping. I’m to wire your cameras up to the main system for an extra layer of security.”</p>
<p>            “My security works just fine, thank you very much,” Moira said frostily.</p>
<p>            Sombra shrugged. “Boss’s orders. Can’t really say no; if you do he’ll start asking questions.”</p>
<p>            “ I think my security is more than enough to suffice.”</p>
<p>            Sombra leaned on the counter and gave her a shrewd look. “What are you hiding down here?”</p>
<p>            The scientist’s cheeks warmed. “Nothing that concerns you. Or him, for that matter.”</p>
<p>            The hacker chewed pensively on her lip for a moment, then straightened, wagging a finger patronizingly at Moira. “You know what? I think you’re hiding something. Is working on the <em>gringo </em>getting to you? Starting to miss your Blackwatch days?”</p>
<p>            Moira snorted. “I tested the limits to know what my position in Blackwatch was; little more than an extra-long leash, the end of which Morrison held. I have no attachment to Blackwatch, and <em>certainly </em>none to Morrison.”</p>
<p>            “Then tell me why you’re so upset about this. The Moira I knew a few months ago wouldn’t care.”</p>
<p>            Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. “<em>Fine</em>. Lock the door and sit down.”</p>
<p>             Sombra did so, watching her keenly.</p>
<p>            “Take off  or deactivate any and all of your recording tech.”</p>
<p>            “Why?”</p>
<p>            “<em>Just do it.”</em></p>
<p>“Jeez. So pushy.” She took several minutes fiddling with her devices and implants, then pulled off her gloves and tossed them aside. “There. Happy?”</p>
<p>            “What is the price for your silence?”</p>
<p>            Sombra scoffed. “What, I don’t even get to know generally what you’re about to tell me?”</p>
<p>            Moira glared at her.</p>
<p>            “All right, all right.” The hacker thought for a moment. “A month…no, two month’s supply of conchas and mezcal. No exceptions.”</p>
<p>            “As you wish. But I’m holding you to this, or I’ll make sure your name gets tacked onto Gabriel’s list.”</p>
<p>            “Feeling a bit murdery, Doc?”</p>
<p>            “<em>Sombra. </em>This is serious. As in, life-or-death serious. I can’t have leaks, or it’s my head. So can I trust you?”</p>
<p>            “Yeah, yeah. I can keep a secret for a price. So what is this secret?”</p>
<p>            “I think Ogundimu’s lost the plot.”</p>
<p>            Sombra’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Well. That’s not something I expected to hear from you.”</p>
<p>             “He’s been pushing the outer edges of what I consider extremist thought for some time now. His plan only ever raises the expected death toll, and when he ordered me to eliminate Morrison, who, might I remind you, is a very valuable scientific specimen, I knew his vision for humanity would only ever lead to its inevitable destruction. The loss in biodiversity and the destruction of natural resources, the chokehold he would have on the human population after the fact, the unimaginable suffering of mind and body he’s willing to inflict to ‘select’ the candidates for his perfect world…Sombra, he doesn’t want evolution, he wants total control.”</p>
<p>            “You’ve caused plenty of pain. What’s the difference?”</p>
<p>            “I’m tired of using hostages that are either paralyzed in terror or screaming abuse with their last breaths. It’s misuse of human lives for the purpose of science. The subjects in my Oasis experiments come because they <em>want</em>to, not because there’s a gun to their head.”</p>
<p>            “You don’t like the methods here, so you want to leave. That it?”</p>
<p>            “I do. But there are assets I’d rather not leave here, Morrison being first on that list.”</p>
<p>            Sombra raised an eyebrow. “Why him first?”</p>
<p>            “He’s my meal ticket. He gets me out of here on a good word, allows me some protection and loyalty outside of Talon.”</p>
<p>            “Ah. You’re going to bust him out.”</p>
<p>            “Precisely. But I can’t do it without the cameras remaining on a closed circuit. A delay in security’s response will increase his chance of escape, if everything else goes according to plan.”</p>
<p>            A devilish smile crept over the hacker’s features. “I can do you one better. I’ll put a loop in the cameras the day and time of the breakout.”</p>
<p>            Moira stiffened. “What’s the price?”</p>
<p>            Sombra tapped her lip pensively. “Let’s just say you’ll owe me one.”</p>
<p>            Moira raised an eyebrow. “As many conchas and bottles of mezcal as you want?”</p>
<p>            “We’ll see.” Sombra gave an amicable shrug. “Hey, food makes things easy, right?”</p>
<p>The scientist rolled her eyes. “<em>Really. </em>Your habit of negotiating with your stomach first is going to get you into trouble one day. Just don’tshow up on the job drunk. I will not be blamed for your inability to do your job thanks to your insatiable thirst.”</p>
<p>            “Yeah, yeah. ‘Drink responsibly’. Thanks for the lecture, Dr. WHO.” She slid off the chair and gathered her equipment.</p>
<p>            “Certainly,” Moira responded, biting off the word. “Now, if you’d <em>please…</em>”</p>
<p>            The hacker translocated away in a flash of purple. Moira shook her head. She didn’t know what went through that woman’s mind sometimes.</p>
<p>            Conchas and mezcal, apparently.</p>
<p>            ****************************</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Escape Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “<em>What. Happened?” </em></p><p>            She could barely hear Akande’s dangerously-quiet voice over the howl of the jet engines, but the bulging veins in his neck and forehead were worrisome enough even without his ominous question. He was <em>seething</em>. And when he was seething, very large, very deep holes tended to appear in the nearest surfaces and people.</p><p>            “I beg your pardon, Akande.” She hefted her bags. “I just returned from conference; I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>            The muscles in his jaw twitched. She could practically hear his teeth grinding. “Morrison escaped.”</p><p>            “That certainly <em>is </em>news. Do you know how he got away?”</p><p>            “No.”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “The lab security didn’t pick up footage?”</p><p>            “The cameras failed.”</p><p>            <em>Well done, Sombra. </em>“I’ve never had an issue with them. Perhaps it was the integration that caused their failure. I’ll have the techs check them.”</p><p>            “No need. There was an issue with the coding and they weren’t properly sharing data. What I wonder is how, exactly, he managed escape when you promised that he would be secured. He was blinded this past week, was he not?”</p><p>            “He was indeed. His SEP healing factors must have kicked in after the experiment.”</p><p>            “You failed to account for that, and as a result he was not properly subdued.”</p><p>            “Idiosyncrasies involving his healing speed were bound to come up, Akande. He’s escaped us before, and I think I have an inkling of where he might be going. I need to gather up his samples, and then I will need to meet a contact in Oasis who may be able to help us track down our lost solider-boy.”</p><p>            “<em>Fine.” </em>She stumbled a half-step back as he jabbed a thick finger into her collarbone. “Find him and kill him, or I will send Reaper to clean up your mess. Your funding will suffer because of this.”</p><p>            The mountain of a man whirled around and marched off, leaving her standing stiff and indignant.</p><p>            <em>Oh, so </em>that’s <em>how it’s going to be, is it? </em>She thought, her mouth twisted in a scowl. <em>Very well, then. </em>Two <em>can play at that game. </em></p><p>            She strode back to the lab, fuming quietly. Her mood took a further turn for the worse when she opened the door and saw Sombra sitting in her desk chair.</p><p>            “You have exactly five minutes to tell me why you’re in my lab, Sombra. As I’m sure you know by now, Akande is furious about Jack, and I have no intention of staying here longer than necessary.”</p><p>            “I have something that’s relevant to the search for Jack.”</p><p>            Moira raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the cameras.</p><p>“<em>Relajate</em>; they’re out.” Sombra stood up. “If you’re headed towards Oasis, they’ll find you there, you know.”</p><p>            “I told Akande I’d be there. That should keep him from nosing into my business for a week or two while Morrison returns with more information on where I’m supposed to meet him. I have some preparation to do if I’m going to pursue this venture.”</p><p>            “You won’t have to wait for Jack. I picked up a signal on Overwatch encryption bands.”</p><p>            Moira grimaced. “The recall. Yes, I know about that. But I don’t see how it helps me.”</p><p>            The hacker grinned. “I was able to triangulate it. Do you know where it’s coming from?’</p><p>            “No, and I don’t have time to spend on guessing games.”</p><p>            “Well, I do know.” She twirled a lock of lavender-tipped hair around her finger, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I suppose I could tell you, but you’ll owe me.”</p><p>            “<em>Sombra. </em>If we’re in this together, then that information isn’t something you should keep to yourself.”</p><p>            She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”</p><p>            “<em>Fine. </em>What is it?”</p><p>            Moira rolled her eyes in irritation, but stepped in as Sombra waved her closer. Her eyes widened at the name the hacker whispered into her ear.</p><p>            “They’re still using that location?”</p><p>            “I know, right? I’m surprised they didn’t get out after Gabe spooked ‘em. It’s not my business to question their decisions, though.”</p><p>            “I need to go so I can get things squared away, and then I intend to leave and meet them. Overwatch may arrest me, so don’t expect to hear from me for a while.”</p><p>            “So long as you don’t forget to keep in touch, <em>sí? </em>You do seem rather forgetful as far as that goes, and you owe me two favors I intend to collect on sooner or later.”</p><p>            “Fine. This gets out to no one, Sombra.”</p><p>            “No one.” She winked. “Gotcha. Good luck. I’ll keep in touch.”</p><p>************************************</p><p>            Jack wiped sweat off his brow and took a deep breath, trying to relax a little.</p><p>            He’d slipped the noose of Talon’s search parties and driven through the day and most of the night, trying to get to the emergency meeting location. They’d decided, if either was separated from the other, that they should have a place to find each other. Unfortunately, the place was an old, crusty motel buried in the bad part of the city that no one in their right mind would stay at. But that was the idea. No one would check it, because no one wanted to sleep on bed-bug infested mattresses if they could help it.</p><p>            He took a turn. He had to grudgingly give O’Deorain one thing; his eyes worked like a hawk’s, and he could pick out contrasts so easily in the dark now, better even than when his SEP augmentations had been at the height of their effectiveness. Even in the smoggy dark of such a large and polluted part of the city, he could pick the dirty sign out clear as day. That being said, he’d almost smashed the vehicle’s mirrors upon getting a glimpse of himself and had pocketed a pair of sunglasses, along with a prepaid phone, at the nearest gas station.</p><p>            Guilt squeezed his guts at the thought of the theft, but he’d needed them to hide his now-orange and reflective eyes, and he had to talk to Ana. He’d left her a message from the stolen phone, explaining as much as he could, but she hadn’t returned his call.</p><p>            He wondered how Ana would take his new eyes. Probably not well.</p><p>            The vehicle bumped over a deteriorating curb and into the potholed parking lot of the motel. The sign glowed sickly pink, casting a garish hue over the single other vehicle there, a rusty old tin can of a car that looked like it still ran on petroleum. He slunk up to the motel office window and peered inside through a gap in the sagging blinds. The owner or minder was reading a yellowed paper, her slippered feet up on the narrow, grimy counter. A curl of smoke, dark green in the light of the neon-ringed clock behind her, snaked up from the tiny burning ember of the cigarette between her lips. A fragment of ash fell onto her threadbare robe, but she appeared not to notice. A lone monitor flickered in one corner, ignored.</p><p>            He crouched and slipped around the side of the building to the block of rooms. He stopped at the first door and listened. Silence met his ears, so he quickly bulled in the door, shattering the flimsy lock, and shut himself inside. Ignoring the bed, which was probably full of enough bugs to eat him alive, he again attempted to call Ana.</p><p>No response.</p><p>            He paced for a while, his fingers drumming against his arms. He felt naked without his visor or jacket, the former of which had probably been taken apart by Talon techs, and the latter of which had probably been incinerated. His stomach growled in complaint of its emptiness, so he slipped out again, searching for a vending machine. He scanned his surroundings and paced the narrow walk, looking and listening for signs of danger. He passed a small, cramped alley, a poorly-maintained pool, a bed of neglected and dying flowers, a laundry room that smelled uncomfortably of urine, the bed of neglected flowers. He didn't see a vending machine, but having a moment of fresh air free from the smell of smoke and weed wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The flickering from one of the light sconces was bothering him. He looked up, scowling at the improperly-wired light, and saw the wink of a scope in the dark out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>            “Ana?” He muttered incredulously, turning towards the alley where he’d seen the flicker.</p><p>            He heard the muffled pop of a weapon. An impact made him stagger, and he looked down. A small tuft of red protruded from his chest.</p><p>            “Nap time, Jack.”</p><p>            His vision dissolved in techicolored bubbles.</p><p>            *****************************</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Reverie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The smell of stale smoke, an electric stove, and brewing tea at once woke him and reassured him. This was not Moira’s lab.</p>
<p>            “Ana?” he asked thickly. Her name came out as a mumble.</p>
<p>            He heard ceramic break and a quiet curse in Arabic. Cloth rustled nearby. He rolled his head on the pillow. She stood near the stove of a tiny apartment kitchen, fumbling with something. Daylight struggled through the drawn curtains onto the dingy carpet.  Shards of mug lay among a brown splatter on the floor at her feet. He blinked slowly, trying to fight the drug in his system, but when he opened his eyes she was standing over him, burying a needle in the crook of his arm. She did not look at him, the lines in her worn face betraying pain as she emptied the syringe into his veins.</p>
<p>            “Ana…”</p>
<p>            She turned away. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>            He fell into darkness.</p>
<p>            When he woke again he heard voices, and he dug through his faded memories, trying to figure out who was talking.</p>
<p>            “Levels…too dangerous…Can’t keep him like this…” A familiar voice with a familiar accent, smooth and easy to listen to, but not a brogue like Moira’s. German, maybe?</p>
<p>            “Don’t know…to do…like Amelie…” Ana’s dry, tired voice responded. “…Obviously did something… his <em>eyes…</em>”</p>
<p>            He clung to their words, listening hard.</p>
<p>            “Has he had any major behavioral changes? Amnesia? Aggression?”</p>
<p>            “No, but-“</p>
<p>            “Amelie displayed all of those after she came back. If he’s not displaying any of those symptoms, I think we should let him wake up. He needs to be given a chance to tell us what happened.”</p>
<p>            “It’s too dangerous. He could snap and kill us.”</p>
<p>            “That is a chance we will at some point have to take, and unless you want to take him to a hospital and try to explain the situation, you have to face that. He needs basic care, and he can’t get it here when he’s knocked out.”</p>
<p>            “I need more time to decide.”</p>
<p>            “I understand, but make the decision soon. For his sake.” Footsteps sounded nearby. “I want to stay, but I can’t. There are duties I must attend to before I answer the recall.”</p>
<p>            He suddenly recognized the other voice. Not a German accent, but a Swiss one.</p>
<p>            <em>Angela?</em></p>
<p>How…?</p>
<p>            A door latch snapped, and he flinched instinctively as a slightly calloused, wrinkled warm hand touched his forehead. The hand drew back, accompanied by a soft curse. He opened his eyes as something clattered, breaking any illusion that he was sleeping, and looked about the messy, cramped apartment.</p>
<p>            He lay on a metal-framed army cot, a blanket draped across him. He tried to sit up, but discovered he was tied down, the restraints hidden beneath the blanket. An IV drip was threaded into his arm. Basic medical equipment lay scattered across the table and floor; scissors, tweezers, vials, gauze rolls, tape, sealed packages of tubing, syringes in sterile plastic. Ana stood at the laden coffee table, fumbling with a couple of items.</p>
<p>            “Ana. Let me up. Please.”</p>
<p>            She ignored him.</p>
<p>            He tugged lightly at the restraints, testing their strength. He could probably break out of them, but that risked scaring the shit out of his already- stressed old friend. If he did that, she’d probably shoot him, and not with darts, either.</p>
<p>            “Ana, it’s fine. I’m not gonna hurt you or Angela; we’re partners.”</p>
<p>            “You could be Jack. But you also could not be Jack.” She turned, a syringe in one hand. “That’s the problem: I don’t know. And I can’t trust you.”</p>
<p>            He focused every fiber of his being on remaining still as a statue, even as she approached him and his instincts screamed at him to fight this.</p>
<p>            “When will we get a chance to talk? I need to talk to you.”</p>
<p>            “When I can be sure that allowing you freedoms won’t result in death.”</p>
<p>            “When will that be?”</p>
<p>            The anguished look she gave him was answer enough.</p>
<p>            She forced the sedative into his arm, and his awareness spun away like water down a black drain.</p>
<p>            When he woke, he felt stiff and sore. The taste in his mouth was downright vile. His bladder felt like it was going to explode. He shifted, trying to stretch. His hands were bound in front of him with a pair of electromagnetic cuffs, but he was free to move. He rolled from his bed and landed in a crouch, observing his surroundings.</p>
<p>            Small, carpeted room, empty except for his bed, tiny bathroom, empty closet. He ducked into the bathroom and relieved himself, then drank from the faucet until his belly felt like it was going to burst. He padded back to the bedroom on bare feet and looked around. The bed was up against the wall farthest from the door. The door’s lock had recently been replaced. A meal tray with a few pieces of jam-covered toast and a cold cup of tea caught his attention, and his stomach growled. He scooped the food up but ignored the tea(remembering the last time he’d drunk Ana’s tea) and paced, closely observing his surroundings.</p>
<p>            She’d done a good job preparing his prison, certainly. She’d left him nothing to work with; the shower rod and curtain had been removed, along with the closet rod  for hanging clothes. An empty setting hung where there was supposed to be a mirror. The drawers held nothing except an old, forgotten roll of tape.   The soap dispenser had been anchored into the tile with concrete screws. Instead of a curtain for the bedroom window, she’d simply screwed boards over it. The bed had even been anchored in place.</p>
<p>            He inspected the lock. Not a code-lock, fortunately, but the deadbolt was going to give him trouble. He sat down on the bed and thought, trying to remember his SEP training on how to deal with the damn things. If he tried to break out forcefully, the noise would alarm Ana, who would have plenty of time to react before the door frame gave. No; slipping out of his room, preferably during the night, and giving her a chance to confront him face to face was probably the best way to go about this conundrum. He had to prove he wasn’t going to hurt her.</p>
<p>            He forced himself to become the perfect prisoner: he obeyed her orders to stand in the bathroom facing the wall when she brought him his food, he ate without comment and did not attempt to steal the biodegradable cutlery, and he did not test the strength of the lock on the door or his magnetic cuffs. He worked out to pass the time, trying to regain the muscle he’d lost during his time as Talon’s prisoner, and showered, fully-clothed, without soap. Her wariness of him faded a little, replaced by a deep fatigue. Her apologies became a regular fixture in their truncated exchanges, and he made sure to respond gently to her. She was only doing what she felt would keep people safe.</p>
<p>            Their conversations lengthened. The two apartment inhabitants sat on opposite sides of the reinforced door, Jack listening while Ana told him stories of their teamwork and good memories.</p>
<p>            The creak of the door heralded her sitting down against it once more. He joined her.</p>
<p>            “Of all the weird things to reminisce on, I’m sitting here remembering the last Christmas party with Overwatch.”</p>
<p>            “I remember, Ana. You and Gabriel had a tipsy dance and fell into the punch bowl. He’d always manage to sneak in alcohol even though it wasn’t technically allowed.”</p>
<p>            “Jack hated those parties.”</p>
<p>            His gut twinged painfully. Ever since he escaped Talon, she’d started referring to him as if he wasn’t there. He recognized the tactic as a self-defense mechanism. She couldn’t afford to get close to him. “Mostly because it was my ass that was grass if one of the higher-ups found out their agents were getting plastered.”</p>
<p>            “Sometimes I wonder if Jack’s still in there. You sound like him and you have some of his memories, but so did Mrs. Lacroix.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry. You know I hate to keep you in there.”</p>
<p>            “I know. I don’t blame you.”</p>
<p>            “And you know I can’t let you out.”</p>
<p>            He grimaced in irritation, the impatience that had been building up slipping through the cracks in his mental armor. “You know and I know what the quickest solution to that is,” he said, his voice snapping out harsher than he intended.</p>
<p>            “I should go…” she mumbled hastily, her voice thick with grief.</p>
<p>            “Ana…”</p>
<p>            The door creaked again as she left. He slumped against the door. He was right, and she was being stubborn. If Ana was so afraid of him and was adamant he couldn’t be trusted, then she should just shoot him and spend her time doing other things instead of playing warden to him. If he was the enemy, he’d eventually escape, more likely than not leaving her in a puddle of her own blood on his way out. Besides, being held captive was really starting to wear on him.</p>
<p>            An idea pieced itself together in his head, but he would have to be patient.</p>
<p>            Patience was not his strong suit.</p>
<p>            Two more weeks passed, during which he remained as unhostile as possible and almost started pulling his hair out from sheer boredom. He retrieved the old tape roll at the back of the cabinet and found there was a little bit of the tape left, which was a tremendous relief. He wouldn’t have to steal it now, and all that was left was to lower Ana’s guard enough so that she wouldn’t murder him when he finally broke out.</p>
<p>            Easier said than done.</p>
<p>They continued their conversations, and he continued to test his restraints, which began to give a little when he pulled on them. He rapped on one side of the door to get her attention as she was cooking one day.</p>
<p>            “Yes?” she asked.</p>
<p>            “Could we talk? Face to face? I haven’t seen you in ages.”</p>
<p>            A long pause followed the question, and she sighed. “…I suppose. You stay on your side of the room, understand?”</p>
<p>            “I get it.”</p>
<p>            She delivered his meal tray and palmed the butt of her sleep-dart pistol as she backed off to the other side of the room. He settled in the doorway with the tray on his lap and took an intense interest in his food, saying nothing, making no sudden movements. When he finished, he left the tray in the doorway and let her lock him back inside the room.</p>
<p>            Rinse and repeat, over and over.</p>
<p>            He noticed her clothing was starting to hang loose on her, the shadows under her eyes deepening with each passing day.</p>
<p>            “You look awful, Ana,” he said.</p>
<p>            “The feeling’s mutual,” she said dryly, suddenly very interested in the lamb and naan on her plate. He ignored the jab.</p>
<p>            “When have you slept last? Like, actually <em>slept?</em>”</p>
<p>            “It’s been a while.” She stabbed at her plate. “It would be easier if you’d just take your tea.”</p>
<p>            “So you <em>have </em>been spiking the tea.”</p>
<p>            She glowered at him. “We both know I can’t trust you.”</p>
<p>            He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “How long is this going to continue?”</p>
<p>            “As long as it needs to.”</p>
<p>            Her response made him want to scream with frustration, but he bit his tongue and finished his meal. He was on Ana’s time, and there wasn’t much he could do about it other than be patient until he could carry out his plan.</p>
<p>            Fortunately for him, her fatigue won out, and her ascetic vigilance started to break down. She tried not to let it show, but she was paying less and less attention to him when they had their meals together, her head nodding against her chest, her thoughts left incomplete when they were talking.</p>
<p>            He pried a hunk of loose drywall and wallpaper from behind the toilet and hid it beneath his mattress that week , slowly chiseling it down to the proper size.</p>
<p>At long last, he was ready.</p>
<p>The next dinner, he backed the chunk of drywall with tape. Acting fatigued, as though he’d worked out hard that day, he wedged the chunk of drywall into the hole in the frame for the deadbolt as he slid down the wall and retrieved his meal.</p>
<p>“Join the club,” Ana said, smiling grimly into her own plate of food.</p>
<p>
  <em>She hadn’t noticed anything was amiss.</em>
</p>
<p>He let her shut him back into his room and started working at his cuffs. The magnets finally gave and his hands came apart, scattering small bits of circuitry across the room. That was the issue with mag-cuffs, he remembered from SEP; they were sturdy, but anyone strong enough could damage the electronics inside with enough tugging and twisting And then they were just expensive, ugly bracelets. He sat on his bed and waited, adrenaline keeping him awake, as he listened for the even sound of Ana’s breathing.</p>
<p>He tried the handle, and, wonder of wonders, the handle turned at the door opened. The improvised lock-jam had worked.</p>
<p>            Moonlight cast itself across the yellowed carpet, illuminating Ana. A blanket hung off the couch, partially covering the old sniper. She shifted fitfully, clutching the sleep-dart pistol loosely. Her rifle leaned against one wall within immediate reach.</p>
<p>            Quiet as a shadow, he slipped across the room and moved the rifle, looking here and there for something to replace the weapon she was holding. His eyes landed on the cupboard in the kitchen, and he darted across to it, smiling as he opened the cabinet and found what he was looking for.</p>
<p>            He moved back across the room and carefully displaced the butt of her pistol with the replacement, mindful of every twitch of her fingers. He paused once to wipe his sweaty forehead, then slid the weapon completely from her grasp and set it aside. He moved back across the room and called her name.</p>
<p>            “Ana.”</p>
<p>            She mumbled and shifted, out for the count. She must really be exhausted. He almost felt bad waking her.</p>
<p>            “<em>Ana</em>.”</p>
<p>            She jerked awake, grasping the thing he’d given her to hold, then gasped in shock as she took in her situation. The can of tomato paste dropped to the carpet with a muffled <em>thunk</em>as she raised her hands in submission.</p>
<p>            “Ana, it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you,” He told her.</p>
<p>            “You’re right,” she said bitterly. “I should have shot you.”</p>
<p>            “And if I was a Talon assassin, I would have shot you by now.”</p>
<p>            She stared at him, long and hard. “But it doesn’t make sense. Talon had you…”</p>
<p>            “They didn’t have the time to condition me.”</p>
<p>            “But your <em>eyes</em>.”</p>
<p>            “Long story. We don’t have time for that tonight. I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”</p>
<p>            “Gods, it all makes <em>sense </em>now…..” Something shiny streaked the old sniper’s cheek. “Jack, if I’d known…If I had proof you were still here…I’m so <em>sorry…</em>”</p>
<p>            “It’s okay, Ana. I would have done the same thing,” he said softly. “There really was no way to know.”</p>
<p>            “You wasted two months in captivity because of me.”</p>
<p>            “<em>Ana</em>,” he said sternly. “It’s fine. Let’s just forget this; we need to find Overwatch.”</p>
<p>            Ana looked up at him, her gaze sharp and suspicious.</p>
<p>            “I learned some things when Talon was holding me that will interest Overwatch. I can explain it more later, but we need to find them and rejoin them.”</p>
<p>            “Perhaps we’d better leave that for another day.” She leaned heavily on the couch.</p>
<p>            “Yeah. We’ll start looking tomorrow. You need the rest.” He gave her a shit-eating smirk. “Get you a cup of tea?”</p>
<p>            Ana chuckled. “I’m all right, but I wouldn’t mind having my rifle back.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Meanwhile...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The two months Moira spent waiting.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            A short, high-pitched tone snapped Winston from sleep, and he rolled over, sniffing the air, his hackles bristling.</p>
<p>            “Athena. Report.”</p>
<p>            “Perimeter alert. One intruder. That’s strange; there was no attempt to scramble my sensors or conceal their approach, and yet they don’t have any IFF tags on them.”</p>
<p>            “Any recognizable weapons?”</p>
<p>            “None of those, either.”</p>
<p>            Winston snorted and swung down from the second floor, pushing his glasses up.</p>
<p>            “We’d better go see who’s knocking.”</p>
<p>            A blur of blue and orange came zipping in, then resolved into a panting Lena. Winston bit back a harsh scolding; he’d almost flattened the little speedster.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Winston. Came as quick as I could.”</p>
<p>“I nearly squashed you, Lena. You need to be more careful.”</p>
<p>“Tell you who needs to be more careful; whoever thought they could just walk up on us. We should catch them before they get too far in. Don’t want a repeat of the recall scenario.”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“They’re approaching from the northeast; they seem to be taking their time,” Athena supplied.</p>
<p>“What, do they <em>want </em>us to see them?”</p>
<p>“That’s an easy way in. We should circle around and cut them off. Athena, seal the inner base behind us. Lena, I’ll see you on the other side.”</p>
<p>“Right-o!”</p>
<p>He shook his head as she zipped off and climbed the nearest stairwell, swinging off the railings. The dark, still air pressed in on him, too quiet now that he knew there was another person besides Lena present. It deeply unsettled him to know there was a mystery person creeping around, doing who knew what to the remains of the base. The longer he waited for people at this location, the more likely the Gibraltar watchpoint was to be stormed by Talon terrorists. But if Talon had infiltrated Blackwatch those many years ago, then no other location was safe, and they couldn’t exactly base their operations out of Lena’s <em>house. </em>He and Athena had run the numbers enough times to know staying and protecting what was left of Overwatch was the only option.</p>
<p>He shortened his steps as he reached the ground floor, trying to move as quietly as possible, alert for anything. Athena had helpfully put up the distance between himself and the figure up on the inside of his glasses, but the sound of the intruder’s footsteps guided him as much as anything. Not the heavy clomp of combat boots or the whisper-quiet padding of a would-be assassin; these footsteps were sharp, prim staccatos not weighted down by heavy arms or armor, quiet and measured and unhurried. He tensed, his body coiling beneath him as the intruder approached.</p>
<p>A shadow detached itself from the surrounding gloom, and he pounced, bowling the figure over and pinning them to the floor. The lights snapped on as Lena joined the fray, pointing her pulse pistols at the figure’s head.</p>
<p>“Hold it ri-“</p>
<p>She stopped midsentence, her jaw hanging open. Winston became aware he was wearing a similar slack-jawed expression as he recognized the person. Red hair, dangerously thin, suited in tight-fitting Talon black, a hint of distinctive heterochromia behind her squinted eyelids.</p>
<p>“<em>You?”</em></p>
<p>“What the ‘ell are <em>you </em>doing here? Winston, the hell is <em>she</em>doing here?”</p>
<p>“I believe you would get more answers if you addressed me directly, Ms. Oxton,” Moira said, her breathing harsh and short. “And would you <em>kindly </em>stop crushing me, Winston?”</p>
<p>The scientist glared at the Talon agent, picked her bodily up by the shoulders, and pinned her to the nearest wall.</p>
<p>“You have ten seconds to explain,” he growled. “<em>Talk.” </em></p>
<p>“I came alone, as your AI can attest to. I got wind of the recall and I’m looking for Jack.”</p>
<p>“’e’s not here. Tough luck.”</p>
<p>A flicker of displeasure crossed the geneticist’s severe features.</p>
<p>“Strange. I sent him back to Overwatch a week ago. I would assume he’d have found you by now.”</p>
<p>Winston bared his fangs and shook the Talon agent. “What did you do to him?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. Well, nothing that would endanger you or him, at any rate. I think you should be more concerned with the fact that I was able to keep him alive even though he was captured by Talon.”</p>
<p>Lena bristled. “<em>Widowmaker </em>is alive, isn’t she? Do you think either she or her husband is <em>thanking</em>you for what you did to ‘er?”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you ask her yourself, since you’re so smart? Talon will eventually track me here, and when they come, they won’t be playing nice. It’s just a matter of time that depends on how effective my attempts to lose them were.”</p>
<p>Winston glared at her. “<em>Lose </em>them? What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Moira’s face contorted in a sneer. “Fill in the gaps on your own. You two are smart enough.”</p>
<p>“I say we stick her in a nice cozy cell for a while until she talks,” Lena suggested. </p>
<p>“I think we can agree on that. Get Jesse up here to take our…” he glanced at the redhead, “…guest.”</p>
<p>“Oh? And what will the Oasis news anchors say when they find out one of their Ministers has gone missing? I left a trail for them, you know. They will pick it up sooner or later, and if they catch you holding me prisoner…well, I doubt they’ll be very happy, seeing as you’re operating illegally.”</p>
<p> Lena put her hands on her hips, her expression unimpressed. “Someone’s talking a big game, Winston.”</p>
<p>“If anything, I am grossly underrepresenting the severity of the issue at hand. Let me speak to Jack and we can get this mess cleared up.”</p>
<p>“Lena just told you he’s not here. I don’t think a few weeks cooling your feet will hurt anyone while we wait for Commander Morrison to reappear.”</p>
<p>“And then…what? You torture me to make me undo what I’ve done? Even if I agreed, doing so at this point would be tantamount to breaking your sacred Hippocratic Oath.”</p>
<p>Lena’s forehead crinkled. “What’s that supposed ta mean, huh?”</p>
<p>“You’ll find out when he gets here, I suppose.”</p>
<p>Jesse hurried into view, his eyes widening beneath his broad-brimmed hat as he spotted Moira.</p>
<p>“Jesse, could you remove her to a cell? Keep your gun trained on her.”</p>
<p>McCree unholstered his well-polished revolver and pointed it at the ex-Overwatch agent. “My pleasure, <em>jefe.</em>”</p>
<p>“Do me a favor and don’t shoot him immediately when he shows up. It would be a waste,” Moira said as Jesse escorted her out of the hall.</p>
<p>Winston snorted but didn’t respond, watching her go without a fight. Lena frowned after them.</p>
<p>“Is it just me, or was that <em>too </em>easy? What d’you reckon, Winston?”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t tell you why she’s here, but I guess we’ll find out soon. Until then, we’ll have to keep our guards up and watch her.”</p>
<p>“What about the commander? You think he’s…okay?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Lena. I hope he is, but I don’t know.”</p>
<p>******************************************</p>
<p>“Well, this is cozy,” she drawled. The lock snapped behind her as she turned to sit on the dusty cot.</p>
<p>Jesse snorted. “You like it? Good. With any luck you’ll be stuck here a while.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure the Petras Act won’t have any problems with a supposedly disbanded paramilitary group kidnapping and holding a Minister of-”</p>
<p>Jesse cut her off. “Aw, don’t give me that old shit. You know you deserve a life sentence. You’re shacked up with Talon. Can’t imagine what they have you doing and don’t want to, but it’s about time someone knocked you off your high horse.” He pulled a cigar from his pocket, lit it, and took a long drag. “So, what<em>did </em> the witch of Blackwatch do with Morrison?”</p>
<p>She smirked. “Still using that old nickname, Jesse? Adorable. As for what I did with Jack, you’d have to ask him when he gets here. I imagine he’s got quite the story if he’s late.”</p>
<p>He blew a stream of smoke into her face, and she staggered back, coughing. “You didn’t answer my question.”</p>
<p>She waved the smoke away and gave him an annoyed look. “Telling you, <em>especially</em>you, would only serve to negatively color your interactions with him when he finally gets here. He won’t pull a Widowmaker, though, if that’s what you’re asking.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you.”</p>
<p>“That’s on your own head then, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“If you hadn’t fucked over Gabriel, then Blackwatch, then Overwatch itself, maybe I’d be more inclined to believe you. But you’re a treasonous snake who seems to live for tripping people up, don’t’cha?” His grip tightened on his pistol. “You just get those claws of yours into people and peel them apart. Don’t much care for anything except your results. The world is your Petri dish, huh?”</p>
<p>“That’s not fair-“</p>
<p>“Seems pretty fuckin’ fair to me, all things considered. Don’t see how you’ve conned yourself into believing otherwise.” He gave her a long look. “C’mon, I thought you were supposed to be smart enough not to fall for that sorta crap.”</p>
<p>“As a scientist, I protect valuable and rare specimens, which Jack, Gabriel, and Lacroix are counted among.”</p>
<p>“If people aren’t test subjects, they’re part of your little menagerie freakshow then, huh?” He took another long drag, the ember of the butt glowing copper. “Well, can’t say I expected much of a change from you. Not like you’ve been pressured to grow at all, huh? Talon just gave you everything on a silver platter, and you didn’t have to lift a fucking finger to even attempt decency.”</p>
<p>“I <em>have </em>standards-“ she started, her cheeks hot.</p>
<p>“I could probably clear the bar you set for your ‘standards’ by crawling over it.”</p>
<p>“I broke Jack out of Talon at great personal risk and-“</p>
<p>Jesse shrugged. “Congrats. What do you want? A medal? A cookie?”</p>
<p>She glared at him. “This is not a game to me, cowboy. Talon grows ever stronger and more twisted by the day. If you and your precious organization want to take them down, you would be wise to listen to what I have to say.”</p>
<p>“Sure. I’ll tell the big guy upstairs about your concerns sometime…eventually.”</p>
<p>“Our grudges have no place in this. I told you that we’re running on limited time, and that still stands. It will stand until you decide to believe me or until Talon shows up and slaughters every last person here.”</p>
<p>Jesse gave a huge and very fake yawn. “Great. I’ll let Winston know that it’s urgent. I’m sure if you’re worried enough you’ll talk.” He activated the barrier with a flick of his hand, turned, and began to amble away.</p>
<p>“It’s my word against theirs! Do you think that’s fair?”</p>
<p>“Don’t care.”</p>
<p>“Jesse! <em>McCree!</em>”</p>
<p>He seemed not to hear her.</p>
<p>*******************************</p>
<p>Moira leaned back in the steel chair and folded her cuffed hands on the tabletop, casting a glare at the one-way glass before staring disinterestedly at the ceiling. The idiots really couldn’t take a hint, could they? What on earth were they making her wait for? As if two months of barely-edible food, boredom, and sitting on her hands wondering about Gabriel’s condition wasn't enough...</p>
<p>“I’ve told you; I’m not saying anything until Morrison shows up, and your hundredth attempt at questioning me won’t change my mind any more than the ninety-ninth attempt will. How many times do I have to tell you?”</p>
<p>            The room at large gave no answer, so she sat in comforting solitude, considering the problem of Gabriel Reyes since she had nothing better to do. Without his blood to analyze, it was all just speculation, but the best way to have a good idea was to have a lot of ideas.</p>
<p>            Movement at the glass box of an interrogation room broke her train of thought on yet another coding sequence for Reyes’ nanobiotics, and Winston’s voice crackled over the PA system.</p>
<p>            “Someone wants a word.”</p>
<p>            The door opened, and a hooded figure slipped inside. She recognized the graying pony tail, the olive skin, the tall, lean stature.</p>
<p>            “Well, well. The elder Amari. So, Widowmaker didn’t finish you off. Does Talon know you’re still alive?”</p>
<p>            Ana sat like a ton of bricks, a deadly serious expression etching each line of her face deeper. “Be careful what you say, O’Deorain. I could <em>hang </em>you with your words.”</p>
<p>            “As everyone here  keeps reminding me.” Moira leaned back. “You’re clearly not Morrison, so what do you want?”</p>
<p>            “What, exactly, did you do to Jack?”</p>
<p>            Moira stretched languidly, taking her time to answer. “Isn’t it obvious? I take it the shot that took out your eye didn’t leave you completely blind, did it?”</p>
<p>            “Answer the question.”</p>
<p>            “I’d be more than happy to share that information with you, but only after Jack gets here. As I have neither my files nor Morrison’s testimony, I don’t feel inclined to speak on such a subject. It should suffice for you to know that he is not part of the project that helped create Widowmaker, and I should not have to say more.”</p>
<p>            Ana stood as abruptly as she’d sat and made for the door. Moira went back to her musings. <em>Stubborn old harridan.</em>Well, she didn’t expect much else from Overwatch, all things considered. She could tell them the truth about how she’d gotten so tangled up in Talon’s business and they’d still tell her to fuck off. Her jadedness towards Overwatch hadn’t just appeared on its own, after all. Nothing could be done for the friction besides waiting and winding them up, and the latter at least gave her an entertaining way to pass the time.</p>
<p>            Her right hand had started aching in the cold of the steel-and-glass box of a room.</p>
<p>            She studied it curiously, tuning it this way and that. Under the harsh lighting , her skin seemed almost translucent, and she could see the larger veins pulsing in time with her heart. She’d experienced this pain plenty of times before, but she kept hoping that studying herself would reveal answers about Gabriel’s conundrum. He did deserve answers after all he’d been through…</p>
<p>            The door hissed again, and she looked up. A smile split her face.</p>
<p>            “O’Deorain.”</p>
<p>            “Jack. Welcome back.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because I didn't have enough to do already, I started YET ANOTHER fan fiction. </p>
<p>My beta-reader seems to really be enjoying it though, so I hope you will too.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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